


Cold Days, Soft Gays, and Warm Cuddles

by SapphicScholar



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: 2x09, Angst, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Goononna, Waverly's bonus blanket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-06 19:58:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11607879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphicScholar/pseuds/SapphicScholar
Summary: I've added in another set of Tumblr prompt fills, so now it's not all "soft gays and warm cuddles," because Chapter 2 is angsty af (thanks, 2x09!). But I figured it'd be easier to keep these things grouped together as a short series of one-shots. One or two more to come!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I have gotten a couple requests for these two, and since I love them as a couple and my boss (and half of my office) is out today…why not? Sorry if I haven’t quite gotten their characters down as well yet! It’s the first time I’m writing them

It wasn’t as though Purgatory stopped functioning when it snowed…no, they were too used to the bitter winters and blizzards to act like their American neighbors down south. But just because Waverly had lived there her whole life didn’t mean she had to like everything about the town—and winters? They were simply not her thing. 

“Hey, baby! Wanna come keep me warm :)” Waverly texted Nicole on one particularly blustery afternoon.

Nicole hesitated. On the one hand, yes. All of the yes. But on the other hand, she was at work, and Nedley was finally trusting her enough to be in charge of the precinct when he was out, to take on bigger cases and supervise investigations. “Can it wait one hour for my shift to end?” Nicole sent back.

“Fineee…” A few minutes later: “I miss you.”

Nicole chewed on her lower lip. She missed Nicole too, and ever since they got rid of whatever that goo demon was inside of her, she’d wanted to spend as much time as possible with her girlfriend. Because now she tasted like her Waverly again, felt and acted like her Waverly—and not just sometimes, always. “I miss you too, sweetie,” Nicole sent back. “Counting down the minutes…unless you wanted to come here? Nedley isn’t in…”

Waverly grinned, glad to see that Nicole was still as excited about their relationship as she was, still as enthralled with her as she was with Nicole, still as insatiable when it came to the hours they spent together up in Waverly’s bedroom at the Homestead or in Nicole’s apartment or the Sheriff’s office or, a couple of times, in the backseat of Nicole’s police cruiser. “I’d love to, but it’s too cold.”

Nicole tried not to laugh, though all she could picture was Waverly bundled up, clutching her hot chocolate, complaining loudly about the not unseasonably cold winters in the town she chose to call home all these years. “I promise I’ll warm you up so soon!”

“Holding you to it!”

—

As soon as Nicole got off work, she drove over to the Homestead, stopping only to pick up a bag of the mini marshmallows she knew Waverly loved to add to her cocoa. “Waves!” she called up when the door didn’t immediately fly open.

“It’s open!” Waverly yelled.

Nicole popped her head through the door, pushing it shut and locking it back up—after all, Purgatory might be a small town, but it wasn’t the kind of place where she felt okay with whomever (or whatever) might creep through her door in the middle of the night. 

“Where are you, baby?” Nicole yelled.

“Up in my bedroom,” Waverly called back.   
Nicole grinned, wondering if perhaps the door had been left open to allow Waverly an entrance of sorts—maybe another surprise performance in that cheerleading uniform? She definitely wouldn’t mind an uninterrupted dance from a non-gooed Waverly. 

But when she made it up the stairs, she was greeted with a very different sight: Waverly curled up in her bed, all four of her basic blankets wrapped around her with her bonus blanket draped across her lap. “Aren’t you just adorable?” Nicole laughed.

“What happened to beautiful and sexy?” Waverly pouted.

“Oh, definitely those too. Definitely. It’s just a little harder to tell when all I can see are your eyes and your nose,” Nicole teased.

“Mm, maybe you join me under the blanket?” 

“I think that could be arranged…but what do you say to moving this party down to the first floor? I can make you cocoa, and you can pick a movie?”

“Can it be a documentary?” Waverly asked, suddenly perking up.

“If I get to snuggle in that blanket cocoon with you, it can be whatever you want.”

“Deal!”

—

A few minutes later, Nicole came out clutching two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, the bag of mini marshmallows tucked under her arm. 

“You’re amazing,” Waverly gushed, reaching for the marshmallows and her mug, holding it close to her face and letting the steam warm her. “Have I told you that?”

“Mm…a couple of times. But I don’t mind hearing it again.”

“Good. Because you’re amazing. Now come and cuddle me! There’s a new History Channel documentary I’ve been dying to see.” Nicole tuned out a little bit while Waverly was talking, too distracted by how perfect Waverly seemed, gesturing excitedly with her free hand as she let her enthusiasm for the subject show. 

Once they started the movie, Nicole tucked herself into the blankets behind Waverly, curling around her and draping an arm protectively across her waist. She trailed soft kisses up Waverly’s neck and across her cheeks, watching as small dimples appeared on Waverly’s cheeks with every teasing kiss. 

By the time Wynonna got home, Nicole and Waverly had fallen fast asleep, curled into each other under a whole pile of blankets while Netflix’s “Are you still watching?” screen blinked in the background. Shaking her head in amusement, Wynonna tip-toed across the room, turning off the television and moving the empty mugs into the kitchen sink. As much as the idea of the baby scared her, she suspected that this little Earp was going to have enough mothers and love to last a lifetime.


	2. Post-Goononna, Post-Text

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I combined a few Tumblr prompts I got for another one-shot and figured I'd post it here to make it easier to find.
> 
> Wayhaught prompt for Nicole's reaction to the text
> 
> I had an angsty prompt for Wayhaught I feel like Nicole when receiving the text would automatically think about what Goononna had said to her and also what Wynonna said to her "you're not her keeper" etc. I feel like she'd feel terrible and like Waves deserved better and they having the talk
> 
> If you want I had a Wayhaught prompt for Nicole thinking about what Goononna said to her about Waverly and start doing those things. (Like give her space and makes it clear she only wants waves to be herself)

Lying in bed, Nicole tried to fight the temptation to look at her phone…again. There was no use; the words weren’t going to change. They hadn’t changed after the first time she threw her phone across the room then hastened to retrieve it. They hadn’t changed after the first finger of whiskey she’d poured from a bottle she found in her cabinet from when Wynonna first visited. They hadn’t changed after the second or the third either. And she knew better than to think a fourth or a fifth would do anything more than make them blur together.

Yet she found her eyes dropping down to her screen once more, skimming past the litany of apologies from her own number, past the now embarrassing pleas for forgiveness, for a chance to explain that she hadn’t meant to keep something from Waverly, had only wanted to find a better time and place to give it to her than at the precinct or at Wynonna’s baby shower. 

And there it was: Waverly’s first communication with her in days. “Dear Control Freak. I will talk to you when I want to talk to you. Until then, have a nice life hurting the people that you love.” 

The words rang too familiar. And it wasn’t just because they brought back memories of a few extended family members and “well-intentioned” family friends reminding her over and over again that she was a disappointment by virtue of whom she was, of whom she loved. No, those were memories that hurt in the way her knee still twinged slightly after a bad accident in her younger days—phantom pain, nothing more. 

Waverly’s text, though, it brought back fresher memories, memories of a pair of Earp sisters possessed by a demon in turn, telling her all of the ways she was wrong for Waverly, all of the ways she wanted too much. Wynonna’s words from the night they finally ended it still echoed in the back of her head: “That was the demon talking. Don’t believe all of it.” But there was that pesky “all of it.” That meant some of it should be believed. 

She’d spent the weeks since then trying to make things right, trying to find out what had and hadn’t been real. She’d panicked about the moments of intimacy and, god, the firsts they had enjoyed together. Sure, Waverly assured her that she was more herself in those moments, more in control then than at any other time, but she still worried. After all, it wasn’t like sleeping with a woman was something Waverly had done before. What if she regretted it? What if she only did it the first time because something, some demon, had been in control of her at the time? How would she ever be able to forgive herself? She’d known something was off, could tell that it wasn’t always her Waverly in there. Yet she’d let it happen anyway. Those concerns, though, Waverly had seemed to reassure her through soothing words and repeated assurances and eager touches, kisses, caresses, that it was something she still wanted, long after the demon had been dealt with.

But the things Wynonna said…they couldn’t be shaken quite so easily. And they weren’t all the demon, Nicole knew that; Wynonna had said as much. Hell, she’d even brought some of those things up before she’d known about the demon, let alone been possessed by it—like the idea that Nicole somehow wanted Waverly to change for her, become someone she wasn’t. And Wynonna had apologized later, but still. The points lingered. 

God, then there had been the demon. Nicole groaned, rubbing her temples, trying to stave off the hangover that already seemed fast approaching. But those words, they wouldn’t stop racing through her head, reminding her of all of the reasons Waverly probably sent that text. 

Waverly’s “a good faker. Or hadn’t you noticed?” 

“Waverly needs space. She’s dying under the weight of your expectations. Waverly’s not the white picket fence in Purgatory girl you want her to be anymore.”

“You are not my sister’s keeper.” Then, “You’re a little ‘queen brisk of bossy town’ for my taste.” And, fuck, Wynonna was perfectly herself then. 

And there it was—proof, in text message form, that everything Wynonna had yelled at her was true. Waverly really did feel like Nicole was controlling her, like she was putting expectations onto her to be someone she wasn’t, to do things Nicole’s way. 

She had tried so damn hard to be better, to make it clear to Waverly that she didn’t want her to be anyone but the woman she was. She’d tried to be supportive of Waverly’s involvement with Black Badge, even as she tried to stick up for herself. Because there had to be some balance, right? She couldn’t just let Purgatory PD roll over on any case that seemed slightly suspicious, slightly out of sorts. The whole damn town was out of sorts! But she hadn’t brought up Black Badge again, hadn’t made a big deal about not being included. 

She’d tried getting her work hours to overlap better with Waverly’s, to make sure that Waverly wouldn’t end up waiting around for her at work, sitting around the precinct where Wynonna could see her, could give her that judgmental glare that she thought Nicole wouldn’t notice. She’d heard stories from across the town, from everyone who thought Waverly deserved better than Champ, about how this promising young woman seemed too willing to throw it all away for a boy, seemed to put her life in second place behind anything he wanted or needed at the moment. She was his cheerleader in every sense of the word. But those people, they said they saw her passionate again, saw her advocating for herself better, looking happier. And that had to mean something, Nicole tried reasoning. 

At this point, though, she didn’t know what was true and what she just wanted to be true. Part of her wanted to blame this town, blame a place where demons rose every generation, where girlfriend’s possessions went unnoticed, where revenants walked and did business among regular folks, where immortals owned bars and drove pickup trucks and threw back shots with the best (and the worst) of them. But she also blamed herself. 

She’d backed off of the overly affectionate statements, tried not to force Waverly into saying things she didn’t mean. She stopped talking about their future together, stopped forcing her own ideas about what they might be onto Waverly. She let Waverly take the lead on saying things like “I love you” when they were on the phone or leaving. She let Waverly set the pace in the bedroom, never wanting to push too hard. 

But their dynamic hadn’t changed for the better. Instead, Waverly just seemed upset, asked Nicole whether they were okay, if she had done something wrong. And this was the last thing she had wanted—the absolute last. Because she loved her Waves—any version of her, save perhaps for the goo-infected one—and she wanted to be able to tell her and show her without worrying about going too far, saying too much. And she’d wanted to talk about this, to sit down and have one of those overly emotional conversations that seemed so stereotypical and endemic to lesbian relationships. But she’d wanted it, suspected they could use it. Then the letter happened. And now…now it was radio silence. Until the text that had her hanging on the edge of a little tipsy and a little hung over, on the edge of hopeful that there had been any contact at all and devastated about what it was. 

But then there was a knock, and she let that hope take over for the first time, let it overcome the deep pit of self-loathing she’d let herself peer into these past few days. Because she knew if they could just talk, if she could explain, if she could apologize sincerely in person, that surely they could work it out. And this time she’d be honest. This time she’d tell Waverly about everything she feared, about all of the reasons she’d been acting differently. This time they’d work through it together.

She flung open the door. “Waves!” Only, it wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on Tumblr @sapphicscholarwrites

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on Tumblr @sapphicscholarwrites


End file.
